


The Delightfully Devilish Backstory of Jonny d'Ville

by Pixie



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixie/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunpowder Tim is curious about how exactly Jonny d'Ville came to be, and makes it his goal to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been long enough since the incident with the moon that Tim's new eyes didn't terrify him every time he looked in a mirror, and he considered that a very good thing indeed. That's not to say they looked any less disturbing - just that they'd worked their way into his mind's image of himself enough to feel like, if not his eyes, then at least eyes that he now had to use. And the zoom function was useful.

He wondered how the others had felt.

He'd asked the Toy Soldier - it had been fixed up easily enough, after all, but it didn't seem to understand the question. Ashes had laughed, slapped him on the back, and then told him tales of fire and joy. He supposed it had been an attempt to cheer him up, but he didn't feel all that cheery afterwards. He tried Nastya, got little out of her, and found the same with Ivy. Brian seemed all too happy to talk, but Tim quickly found learning about how being mostly metal felt only made him feel worse.

That left Jonny d'Ville.

It wasn't that Tim was scared of Jonny, no, that definitely wasn't the word. It was just that having seen him as just a head, the thoughts about how that head ended up back with an appropriate body were rather disconcerting. That, and his memories of the slightly manic gleam in his eye every time even a hint of a spark of a chance of violence was mentioned.

Still. He wasn't mostly metal, and he loved his own voice enough that Tim was sure he could get an answer.

It was with this in mind that Tim organised a poker game. About halfway through the evening, when they were both suitably tipsy, and Tim was considerably lighter in pocket, he asked. "So, how'd you get the heart?" Jonny looked at him oddly for a moment, and then roared with laughter.  
"You really want to know?" Tim nodded, hoping he didn't look too eager. "It's a long and arduous tale."  
"I don't mind."  
"Well then," Jonny smiled, all teeth. "Once upon a time..."

 

**The Little Lost Boy**

_Once, there was a boy. He was an ordinary boy, who lived in a too-small village on the oft-ignored planet of Valeward. It was a strange world, a beautiful one, where every sunset lit up the violet sky like a message from heaven itself. No-one could remember why they'd colonised it, as far out from the center as it was. But it was home to many, and life went on, as it so often does, with little excitement or change._

_This ordinary boy, or Jonathan as he was known, did not like the lack of excitement or change. He devoured Old Earth books, works of heroes, adventurers, dreaming of the day he would be old enough to fly to the stars and live amongst them. His parents would encourage him, telling tales of his uncle - a general in the early days of exploring the system they were in, who had visited hundreds of worlds, and then flown out, beyond the galaxies edge, to search for more.  
_

_When Jonathan was old enough to be allowed to work the fields with his father, he found a strange contradiction forming in his heart. In the deep purple twilight, lit by stars and the glow of twin moons, he felt he could almost love his home-world. But in the day, his heart swelled with thoughts of escape, of soaring endlessly through the void. And as time went on, this contradiction grew. His heart ached at the thought of leaving this beautiful world behind, but it ached also at the thought of never leaving.  
_

_After he had finished in the fields for the day, but before he had to return to his mother, Jonathan would go into the woods. He could dream there, in the empty space between trees, above the moss and below the star-strewn sky. It was there he fought monsters, wielding branches as swords, climbed into hidden worlds in the the treetops, and drew maps of the places he would conquer. And then he would run back to his cottage, nestled beneath the hills for warmth, and sigh as his mother insisted on cleaning the dirt from his face, teasing the knots from his blonde curls, and passing him a fresh set of clothes. "Did you have many adventures?" she would ask, and always they would spill from his lips, twisted and tangled, but bursting with life. She would laugh, rub a mark from his cheek, and ruffle his freshly-combed hair. "That's my boy."  
_

_And so life went on, each day the same except for the stories Jonathan read._

_And then the sky began to fall._

_Sparks appeared through the clouds, bright enough to be seen over the light of the midday sun. Pieces of metal, blacker than coal, crashed into the fields, setting the silver corn alight. The screaming started, and forgot, somehow, to end. Jonathan ran._

_And ran._

_And ran._

_Into the forest, no longer the heart of dreaming, but burning, the acrid stench filling his lungs, the flames drawing ever closer behind._

_He ran._

_Scrambling over branches, over moss, he looked up to see a ship. It was small, glowing orange with reflected fire. And it had a doorway._

_He ran._

_Hands caught him as he leapt, and darkness fell._

_Jonathan woke to a white room, cold, sterile, and brighter than any day he’d seen yet. His eyes hurt, and he shut them tightly._  
 _“You’ll get used to it,” said a voice, and he opened them slowly to trace the source. “I’m Carmilla. Doctor Carmilla.”_  
 _“What happened?”_  
 _“War. A pity it ended so fast, really, I was quite enjoying it.”_  
 _“A pity? It...my home!”_  
 _“Gone. Burned and boiled and withered away like so many before it.”_  
 _“But...I...”_  
 _“And you’re the only one left. I’m still waiting for a thank you.” Jonathan mumbled something, and Carmilla smiled. “Good. Let me know if you need anything.”_

_The tears didn’t stop for a long time. Oh, they paused, when his throat hurt to the point of retching and his lungs ached and his eyes held no more, but they would start again, sure enough. The contradiction that had pained him for some many years was no more, and instead, he felt as though half of him had vanished - fallen away into the void he had once longed to explore. And so it was that Jonathan came before Carmilla, and sought her help._

_“Make it stop,” he said.  
“I can do that,” she replied._

 

“And that, my dear Gunpowder, is the tale of how my heart was removed and replaced with something far colder and less likely to break. Happy?”  
“Really?”  
“Of course not, you bloody idiot. And by the way, you just lost your pistol.”


	2. Chapter 2

It soon became clear that Jonny d'Ville did not make a habit of telling people the origins of his heart. Oh, he would talk about himself all day, but anything that even came close to the heart got steered away as quickly as he could. At first, Tim put it down to some kind of emotional trauma, but given the attitude Jonny had to most things, he soon came to conclude that it was nothing more than an attempt to appear mysterious. That settled it. He would find out the origins of the heart, and prevent Jonny from adding it to his list of things he could pretend he was better than Tim at.

The next time Tim heard the tale of Jonny's heart, they were at a university. Or rather, on a university. Each subject had it's own city - or in some cases, country. One continent, a large, winding strip of land that worked its way from icecap to icecap held the science department. It was here that Ashes had asked to be dropped off, and, after some arguing, had been left at the center of the physics department to the North - with the Toy Soldier and Nastya to ensure no nasty accidents happened. Ivy had been left in the small, but dense, city of early Earth history, and Tim, unsure of where to go, had landed with Jonny and Brian on the Isles of Mythos. "Why here?" he'd asked, but gotten no answer beyond a wink. Eventually, after walking through streets with names in a variety of languages that Tim couldn't recognise, they came to a small, gargoyle-fronted building. Jonny had banged a few times on the glass in the door, and then whispered something inaudible through a speaker. There was a long pause, and then the door dissolved before them, revealing a small man, with dark skin, dark hair, and piercing yellow-green eyes. There was something off about him, and it was only when he spoke that Tim noticed - the man had no pupils. "And what can I do for you, gents?" he asked, his voice soft. Before Tim or Brian could say anything, Jonny changed.

"Oh, I...uh, well, we were just visiting and then my friend here remembered that you lived here and I thought that maybe I could just come and meet you if that's okay? I did so love your book on the relation between the notion of the Heroic Self that a society has and how it relates to inter-solar travel, I found it enlightening!" Tim glanced over at Brian, who looked unphased. Well, if this was the sort of thing Jonny did in his spare time, who was he to argue?  
"Of course, my lad, do, come in - I do so enjoy meeting students such as yourselves. Now, was there anything of particular interest to you? Or shall I just bore you with details of my newest text?" The man laughed at himself, and Jonny offered a nervous smile in response.  
“Well...I was actually hoping to talk about your research. Into...um...ah, this is sort of strange...into Opus.” Instantly, Jonny was pulled forward and the door slammed behind them all.  
“Who told you about that?” the man hissed, and Jonny squirmed.  
“I...I was one of them.” The room fell silent, and with a flick of his wrist, the man gestured them towards an office. 

Once they had sat down, and Tim had accepted he wasn’t going to understand any of this for a long, long time, Jonny began to speak.  
“You see...um...what can I call you?”  
“Please, call me Lucian. And yourself?”  
“Nathan.”  
“And you’re okay with your two...friends? Staying in the room.” Jonny nodded.  
“Well then, go ahead.”

 

**The Madness of Myth**

_There is a planet spinning somewhere out in the galaxy that is known only as the City. This planet is not our concern. What is our concern is something that sprang, as though fully formed in its image, from its surface. Zeus. Or rather, a man who is claiming that name for his own._

_He flies, straight as an arrow, past the star the City orbits, past the asteroid belt around his system’s edge, and towards a world - a world nameless, unremarkable and now, his. It takes three years to set up the world as he wishes, and then he waits._

_In the time Zeus has been waiting, the real Zeus - the Zeus of the City that our lead has stolen the name from - has sent out the first colony ship. Not just any colony ship, but a ship intended to conquer. Soldiers stand shoulder to shoulder, packed in lifeless and cold for their journeys. On waking, they will be the finest army known, able to recover from almost any injury, unyielding, emotionless and driven by just one goal - to spread the City._

_The Zeus we know - the liar, the charlatan - had paid a lot of money to access the first of these ships. And in the brief time he’d been allowed in the room, just one thing had been changed. The autopilot._

_And so it is that as the conquering army awakes and storms into the white light of the planet, almost every one of them is blown into pieces so small they will be unable to recover. The remaining ones are captured, and marched by what appear to be robots towards a palace._

_One of them, a soldier identified only as NTH850, stumbles, and in the brief moment he is on the ground he notices the robots lack of attention. And so he lies still, and waits, and is free._

_The captured soldiers are taken before a throne within the palace, where Zeus smiles beatifically down on them. “Welcome, my children.” There is not a sound from the soldiers, all of them new to a life of any kind. “I am Zeus, your father.” The name stirs memories in the men, implanted as it was. For the glory of Zeus, they recall. You will live for the glory of Zeus. As one, the mass of men salutes. “And now, your task...build for me a City.” The command is like home in their hearts, all they were built for - to spread the City like a plague. Then there is silence and the beginning of their work._

_NTH850 stands, wary and alone. The twin suns burn, their light catching on the salt-like rocks he stands on, straining his vision. Shelter, he thinks. I must find shelter._

_The City rises, its dark height blackening the sky, blocking out the second sun. The City digs, churning up the glistening earth and burrowing into its depth, awakening horrors. The City spreads._

_NTH850 sleeps, hidden in a mound of crystalline dirt. And as he sleeps, he dreams. He dreams of faces - of a man known as Zeus, and his advisor, Athena. He dreams of glory, of promises of honour and wealth._

_The City falters. Men die, and Zeus rages. This is impossible, he screams at the sky. These men are immortals! And so he walks among them, steals away the sick, the dying, and goes to work._

_Zeus - the real Zeus - smiles._

_NTH850 learns to farm. He tames the smallest beasts, sows the seeds of the plants that haven’t poisoned him (much) and builds a home from rock. It has windows letting in the light from two suns, a pit where he can cook, and a place where he can sleep. It isn’t much, but NTH850 no longer minds._

_The City’s shadow stretches as it grows taller, until finally, it touches the edge of a field. Disease spreads and NTH850’s crops wither and fail. He sees the image of Zeus, and knows with more certainty than he has ever felt before, that it is a lie._

_And so it is the NTH850 goes back to the ship. Its rusted, eroded, long since forgotten by anyone but the beasts nearby. Its easy for him to break in, to find what he is looking for - the medical supplies and treatments stashed away in the bay. And so he ties them together, links the ropes around his waist, and pulls. Each box contains enough supplies for an army, but he does not falter, does not stumble, and does not pause until he reaches the City._

_The city recedes. Day by day, as men grow strong, they dismantle their work and begin the long march back to the palace. NTH850 leads them, and they sing as they go._

_But Zeus - the Zeus they know now to be false - is not done with them yet._

_Robots swarm, and bodies are pulled apart, pieces cast miles, oceans apart so they cannot reform. In the end, only NTH850 stands, and in the end, he falls._

_Intact._

_He is dragged before the throne, and looks into the face of the man who would be called father of all. “Now, my child, what is this?” NTH850 spits, and Zeus smiles. “No? Perhaps time will change your mind. And we shall see just what those little bodies of yours can take, shall we?”_

_Days turn into months, months into years, and NTH850 does not remember the last time he wasn’t screaming. Daily, his heart is torn out, his chest left open in the hot, dry air, and daily, it grows back. Sometimes, Zeus visits, and on those days the pain is worse - not just a heart torn free, but a liver, a lung. Eventually, his heart gives out, but then there is the feeling of metal in it’s place, and the torture lives on._

_Until._

_Until one day, a giant of a man cuts his chains and stands him up. “Who are you?” he manages to choke out, his lungs rattling like those of a man on his death bed._

_“The hand of Zeus. The real one, not the phony you’ve had here.”_   
_“What...what about me?”  
“What about you?”_

_And with that, the man leaves._

_And NTH850 is free._

“I see,” said Lucian. “I see.”  
“And I was wondering...um...well...”  
“Go on, my boy.”  
“It’s been such an awfully long time since I’ve been there, and I feel like I should go back, make sure no-one was left behind. But I - well, I don’t know where it is, you see, and not a star chart I could find has it marked!” Lucian’s eyes lit up, and he edged forward in his chair.  
“I could find it for you.”  
“You could? But how could I ever repay you?”  
“Let me use this story. Tell no-one else. Make me the richest, most renowned scholar there ever was!” Jonny - Nathan, Tim supposed - looked torn, and fidgeted desperately with the edge of his shirt sleeves. Somewhere, a clock ticked, and Lucian’s eyes began to harden.  
“Okay.”

 Jonny grinned at them both as they boarded the Aurora, star chart clutched firmly in one hand.  
“Why are we going there?” Tim asked. “I mean, you escaped, right?” Jonny laughed, spreading the map out before them.  
“You bought that? Damn, I’m good. Never been there in my life, Gunpowder. But I’ve heard rumours of that Zeus character - Salmoneus, we should call him - and if they’re right, that planet is stocked with enough weapons to wipe out empires. Or, you know, enough for one really good trip with the crew.”


	3. Chapter 3

The weapons were indeed a pleasant distraction from the occasional boredom induced by being immortal. Tim and Ashes had rigged up a method to encourage a star to go nova early, and Brian had taken it upon himself to ride the solar waves from star to star. To anyone watching from afar, it would have seemed a giant game of dot to dot. 

Soon though, the weaponry ran out, and they had to find another form of distraction. Luckily, their travels had pushed them towards a run down and out of the way space station. Jonny had perked up at the sight of it, and Tim had asked Ivy why.  
“Haven't you heard of Omega?”  
“No?”  
“Honestly, don't you read anything? It's owned by Aria, one of the richest, most ruthless and reckless gamblers in the galaxy.”  
“Ah.”  
“Yes.”  
“We're going to be lucky to get away with anything we own, aren't we?” Ivy just smiles.

Jonny appeared in Tim's cabin a few hours later. “Coming?”  
“Are you going to offer me as a bet again?”  
“I only offered your eyes.” He noticed Tim's glare, and waved a hand in his direction. “You don't like them anyway.”  
“No, but I like being able to see.”  
“Come on,” Jonny said, a familiar grin dancing on his lips, and Tim just sighed. “They've got one of the best black markets in the system.” He groans, and makes a show out of standing up.  
“Fine. I'm not betting though.”  
“Suit yourself.”

The station was old, with rusted corridors, and closed off doors where some space junk ripped off entire sections. But for all the grime and the dirt, weapons glittered and gleamed behind desks, and the scent of rare delicacies filled Tim's lungs.  
“Welcome,” Jonny said, arms outstretched, looking for all the world like an old-world ring master. “To Omega!”  
“D'Ville!” someone shouted, and Jonny turned.  
“Ah, Aria! Meet our newest crew member, Gunpowder.”  
“And how did you acquire this one?” she said, slinking forwards, all curves.  
“We picked him up near Earth – he blew up the moon and we figured he'd be a good fit.”  
“He's charming,” Aria said, her voice practically a purr. “Will you be playing tonight?” Jonny grinned.  
“I will. Gunpowder here is shy.”  
“Shame.” All of a sudden, she is pressed up against him, her hands wound in his curls. “I do love a charming gent such as yourself.”  
“I...uh...I...”  
“So you'll play?” Tim swallowed, and she pulled backwards, clapping her hands gleefully. “Then it's settled. I'll see the two of you tonight over in the Afterlife Club. Oh! And do bring Ashes over, we've just got in an excellent range that I'm sure they'll enjoy seeing.”

Back on the ship, Ivy merely smiled.

They arrived promptly, a bag each of all they planned to bet. The game was slow at first, a table of faces that Jonny seemed to know, and who Tim lost track of as quickly as their names were mentioned. He found himself next to Aria, and as the evening went on, noticed her edging closer, her hands brushing his when cards were dealt, and he started to drink more. Slowly, his bag emptied, and Jonny's eyes shone with greed. Eventually, when both of their bags had emptied, and Aria was gloating, Jonny stood up and joined Tim next to his chair.  
“A final bet!” he declared, and Tim looked up, confused.  
“You've got nothing.”  
“Not quite.” One quick movement later, and a very, very drunken Gunpowder was strapped to a chair in the centre of the table.  
“I bet...him.” Aria smiled, all teeth.  
“When you say 'him', what do you mean? Him for an hour, his possessions, his...?”  
“Him. At your service. For as long as you desire.”  
“Well, well. And what shall I bet against him?”  
“Everything you have for sale on the market right now.”  
“That's rather a lot you're asking.”  
“It's rather a lot I'm offering.”  
“Is it now?”  
“Oh yes. Gunpowder is a prodigy, capable of making weaponry that'd make you richer than you'd believe. And of course, he's terribly pretty.”  
“True.”  
“In?”  
“Yes.”  
Various others at the table placed their bets, and then, just as the cards are dealt, Aria bites.  
“Ever bet anything this risky before?”  
“Oh, of course. Have I never told you how I got my heart?” She raised her eyebrows and leant forward.  
“No?”

 

**Fortune Favours the Fool**

_Mr D'Ville had blown the family fortune within days of his wife's father dying. He'd sold the farm for beer money, blown his wife's inheritance on a poker game and had sold any heirlooms in an attempt to make it back. Mrs D'Ville, or Janet, as she preferred, had left him to wallow in his own filth, taking her son, Jonny, with her. They'd gotten a few towns over when someone stole the last of their money, and Janet had broken down and cried.  
_ “ _I wanted to leave this planet,” she had wept, as Jonny stood by, unsure of what to do. “All I wanted was to leave, and now...”  
_ “ _I'll get us tickets off, mom, I'll work every day, with no sleep or breaks, I'll...”  
_ “ _You're a sweetheart, Jonny. I'm so glad you don't take after your father.”_

 _And so Jonny worked, as he promised – a night shift, and a day shift, and a twilight down at the local bar. They scrimped, and they saved, and slowly, they worked towards their goal. Until, one day, Janet got sick. She coughed, and coughed, her lungs sounding as though they were trying to force their way up her throat into the open air. The doctors said it was an awfully rare disease – probably brought in by one of the space-travellers. She'd need a specialist, they said, and Janet and Jonny looked at their money, and knew there was no way to save her.  
_ “ _Take the money and get off world,” she insisted.  
_ “ _No, mom, we can get enough for you. We can – I can! I don't work early mornings, I can...”  
_ “ _Jonny, please.”  
_ “ _I won't!”_

  _One morning, hunting for another job – any job, no matter how dangerous or degrading – Jonny had walked the streets. Staring at the ground, hood pulled close to avoid the acid burn of the rain, he had walked straight into a young woman.  
_ “ _Oh! I'm terribly sorry, miss...?”  
_ “ _Nevermind. It's my fault for standing in the way.” He looked at her more closely, noticing the amount of bare skin revealed to the skies.  
_ “ _Do you need a coat?” he asked, somewhat awkwardly. “I mean, I wouldn't want you getting hurt in this...”  
_ “ _Aren't you sweet? I'm perfectly fine, thank you. You can buy me a drink though.” Jonny shoved his hands in his pockets, biting his lip.  
_ “ _I, uh...I don't have any money.”  
_ “ _What? I've seen you around, I know how much you work.”  
_ “ _My mom is sick. I need...” She gasped, a pale hand flying to her bright red lips.  
_ “ _I'm so sorry! Oh, here, let me buy you breakfast.” Before he could argue, she grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards one of the many run-down cafés on the side of the road._

  _Over coffee, Jonny found himself spilling out the tale of his father, of the alcohol-fuelled rage, the long nights without heat, the days without food. She had listened, her green eyes soft, her face gentle. “You must forgive me, miss,” Jonny said. “I've talked about nothing but myself, and I haven't even asked your name.”  
_ “ _Felicity,” she said, taking his hands. “I will do my best to help you, dear D'Ville, but you must trust me.”  
_ “ _Trust you?”  
_ “ _I'm something of a...fortune-teller, if you will. I swear to you, if you follow my advice, then luck will shine on you and you and your mother will be fine.”  
_ “ _What would you like in return?”  
_ “ _Nothing but your devotion.”  
_ “ _Done.”  
_ “ _Good,” she said, squeezing his hands. “Now, what you must do is this – you must tread the route your father took, but you must take one step further. Where others would stop, you must push on. You must be willing to bet all that you have, and in the moment you do, I swear – fortune will favour you.”  
_ “ _No...no, I can't. I can't be like...like him!” Felicity delicately removes her hands from his, and her once gentle smiles turns cold.  
_ “ _You made the deal. Either you take this route, and as promised, luck will shine on you. Or you break your word, and I can promise you now, your luck will run out.”  
_ “ _I...I'll think about it.”  
_ “ _Soon, my dear D'Ville, or your fortune will waiver.”_

  _Jonny returned home, worrying over Felicity's deal. He arrived to find men in white coats in the living room, and his mother laid out on a stretcher. “Where are you taking her?” he demanded.  
_ “ _She's dying, son. We can take her to the hospital and make her last days as painless as possible, but...”  
_ “ _Why can't you just **help** her?” he railed, feeling the temptation to lash our and burying it under the memories of his father's face.  
_ “ _Money, son. I'm sorry. I am.” Jonny knelt beside his mother, kissed her forehead and squeezed her hands.  
_ “ _I'll visit soon, mother, I will.”  
_ “ _Just go,” she breathed, and his vision blurred with tears.  
_ “ _No – no, I can save you. I know I can!” He watched as she was carried from the house. He'd thought the decision would be difficult, but looking at her – seeing the fear she was desperately trying not to reveal to him – had all but made it for him. He cleaned out the safe he held up stairs, and headed out. Out to the biggest, most well-known casino on the planet, where space travellers stopped to trade illegal items, where men were shot over a single coin. Where his father lost everything._

  _He exchanged all of his money – after all, with the kind of games he'd be playing, there was no point in saving any. Without pause for thought or second guessing, he found a table, and joined the game. The day went past, the lights inside growing brighter as those beyond the door grew dimmer. Jonny played like a man possessed, with no thought for safety or sanity. There were great losses, true, but each game left him a step closer to his goal – a step nearer to life and freedom. People had began to take notice, and he'd found himself invited into games with higher stakes – he'd heard a gunshot after one, but he kept playing._

  _Finally, as dusk settled and the masses came pouring in, he received a note. An exclusive invitation, it said, to play with a certain calibre of people. Most people would have stopped, noticing the viciousness behind the gold filigree letters, but Jonny just grinned. Death itself may come knocking, he thought, but he had fortune's favour._

_He made his way up to the table – noticing the stark contrast between the velvet plush chairs and the deep brown stains upon them. This was a place were money was made, and lives were lost. He took a seat, and looked up at the other players. A man, mid-thirties, dark skin and dark eyes, smiling like the reaper. Another man, pale as ash, his face serious and drawn. By the looks of his chips, he was losing. A woman with blood-red lips, green eyes and...a smile that he'd seen before. Jonny swallowed, looked away. Felicity was here, he thought. Was that in his favour or not? The next man was old, his hair almost lost, but his eyes were the keenest Jonny had ever seen. And finally, the dealer. A man who could only be summed up with the word inscrutable. His face gave little away, and his cards even less._

“ _So,” said the reaper-man. “Shall we play?”_

 _Cards were drawn, played and removed from the table. Chips shuffled, piles bit. Players occasionally joined and were ousted, until only the reaper-man, the man of ash and Jonny were left. Felicity, out many games before, lounged, a cigarette bearing her lipstick's kiss in her hand. “Oh darlings,” she drawled, “I am terribly bored. Can we at least up the stakes?” The men seemed to dance to her will – reaper betting his business, ash betting his starship. They seemed accomodating of Jonny's lack of material goods – at first. And then, finally, ash folded. His face seemed duller than it had before, and Felicity almost purred with delight. “Well now, young upstart,” she said, her money-green eyes fixed on Jonny. “Will you push on? Will fortune favour you?”  
_ “ _I'm in for another,” Jonny said, and the reaper-man laughed.  
_ “ _What will you bet?”  
_ “ _Whatever you desire.” The man looked him up and down, and then smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.  
_ “ _Your heart.”  
_ “ _My heart?”  
_ “ _Yes, your literal, beating, bloody heart. Mine is somewhat tired after this many years, but yours...you are young, and healthy. I want your heart.”  
_ “ _And in return?”_  
“ _A starship and any money I have here.”  
_ “ _Done.” They shook, and the game began._

  _Fortune failed him. The reaper stood up, and Jonny recoiled from the silver gleam of metal on his belt. “Wait!” she shouted, staring at Felicity. “One more game.”  
_ “ _And what shall you bet?”  
_ “ _Everything else.” Felicity learnt forward, and placed her pale hand on his leg. His confidence grew – what could he lose? In losing his heart, he'd lost his life. But if he bet everything...  
_ “ _Everything?”_  
“ _You can have my eyes, my liver - I know you could use that, my lungs, my identity cards and fingerprints. Anything you can strip of my dead body will be yours.” The reaper-man looked at Felicity, and then back to Jonny. He laughed._  
“ _You are an interesting one. What would you ask in return?”_  
“ _Everything of yours. All of your starships, your money, your land. I will strip you as bare as you plan to strip my corpse. And my heart.”  
_ “ _Oh no, lad. The heart I'm keeping.” Jonny paused. He could still back out. Fortune seemed to have fallen aside...but no._  
“ _Fine. The heart you may keep – but I get three days to deliver it.”  
_ “ _Done.”_

  _The game was long, and Jonny could feel the sweat dripping into his eyes, every shake of his hand, every nervous twitch. How was reaper not aware of them? But he looked up, at the dark man with the dark hair with the smile like death, and found an echo of the nerves he felt in his face. Felicity was stood between them, like a shark scenting blood. And then, it was over. A single card was placed on the table, and one man stood victorious._

  _Jonny felt a soft kiss on his cheek. “I told you,” she breathed into his ear. “Fortune favours the bold.”_  
“ _The foolish, you mean?”_  
“ _Same thing. Come, claim your winnings.”_

_As though dazed, Jonny collected. First cash, then cards, contracts and keys. Reaper still grinned though, and Jonny remembered about his heart. “Three days,” the man said, and Jonny nodded dumbly. He went home, paid the hospital for his mothers care, booked the surgery and bought outright the replacement part. He checked on the star-ships, chose the loveliest and stocked it with supplies._

_The next day, he checked in on his mother. “I'm leaving,” he said softly, and tears welled in her eyes._  
"I know.”  
“ _No, mother,” he whispered. “You don't. I've paid for your care – I've bought you a starship. I've filled it with all your could want and enough money to buy a home on whichever world your choose. But I can't come with you.”_  
“ _Why not?” she asked, looking at him with amazement.  
_ “ _Because I'm as bad as him." He kissed his mother on her forehead once more, and went out into the street. A few hours later he was on an operating table, and a few hours after that, his sadness faded and a metal beat echoed in his veins._

   
 _He hand-delivered the heart, and returned a couple of the contracts to the man – his house and a single business. Then he went back to the ships, and flung himself into space._

Aria's hands had developed the slightest of tremors. Nothing most would notice, but Jonny, watching for it, allowed himself a moment of relaxation.  
“And that, Aria, is how I got my heart. So, to the game.”

Jonny found the game itself rather dull – simple enough to read the other guests at the table, simple enough to have Aria cornered. No, the fun was from watching her – watching her dread this heartless man taking her for everything she had. That, and watching Tim fight drunkenly against his restraints, swearing that he'd kill him. He probably would – maybe he'd just shoot him, or perhaps test one of his newest inventions – but Jonny wouldn't mind. After all, who cares about death when you're immortal? At last, it was over. Aria handed over the appropriate keys and notes to get him what he asked, he untied Tim and made his way back to Aurora. “Don't forget,” he said to the rest of the room, “The name's D'Ville.”  
“Get off my spacestation,” Aria hissed.  
“Gladly.”

The morning after Tim didn't ask if the story was a lie – he knew better than that by now. Instead, he just shot Jonny in the back three times and set fire to his beard. As their ship flew onwards through the stars, Jonny stared forlornly in the mirror at his bare cheeks, and thought about Felicity. She wasn't a girl he'd met whilst gambling, and he'd never had a mother named Janet. But he'd known Felicity, with her money-colour eyes, and he had known her well.

 


End file.
